At What Cost?
by Da Devil's Dictator D3
Summary: Watari's mortal life before he became the mad genius Shinigami. An aspiring scientist under the wing of an Italian family, he returns home and an obsession begins.
1. Chapter 1

**AT WHAT COST?**

**By Da Devil's Dictator D3**

**Disclaimer**: How can I ever own something as cool as YnM?

**A/N:** This is my theory of Watari's mortal life before he became the mad genius Shinigami. It's an elaborate guess of the factors that made him into a Shinigami.

* * *

**Chapter One**

The steam train moved cautiously beside the cliff as it made its way to the next station.

A lone passenger sat in his solitary cabin, holding a small black notebook in his hands. He constantly flipped the pages back and forth, making a note on one page then going going back to other pages. Frequently, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bit the top of his pen as he read through the words he'd written. Numbers, mostly though, and figures only a man of science could comprehend.

The numbers meant nothing though, unless one could connect it to another in order to understand and realize what it would mean. Perhaps, it would mean nothing to others but for him it meant only one thing. A woman.

An obsession triggered by the very target of it.

In between the pages of the black notebook was a picture of a young woman. The photo was that of a portrait painting of the girl. Though the photo were of dull browns and whites, he could still recall the day he laid his eyes one the true painting. If he had stood before the girl herself, he would have kissed her hands, or her cheeks even, if he couldn't help it.

But the painting was far away in the mansion of the Algiero in Italy. All he had now was the photo.

The numbers in his book all dealt with his formulas on a woman. It was all a fantastic blueprint.

But then. He was coming home. None of his eccentricities were acceptable in his house. He needed to focus to be what he was sent away to Europe to be.

The young man had just come off from a ship docked at the piers of Sapporo and was on his way to his hometown. It was five years since he'd gone. Gone to the many universities of Europe to study many sciences. He was fairly capable in chemistry, physics and mechanics. He had an Italian patron, Magnus Algiero, who took care of his expenses, as many noble men were wont to do with scholars.

Biting the tip of his pen, Watari Yutaka chuckled to himself as he thought on the main reason why science and becoming a scientist intrigued him so.

"The white lab gown looks so cool on me!" he gleefully squealed.

The train's whistle blew, signaling the arrival at the station and the abrupt stop made him fall off his seat with his head diving for the floor of the cabin. Melodramatically, all of his luggage fell on top of him.

_Ooh...the curse of my eccentricities..._

* * *

How Watari survived such an accident we'll most likely never to know, yet as long as he's twitching those warm hands, we don't care.

Looking around the station, he didn't expect anyone to come and meet him on his arrival. His family knw of his finishing but expected him on the next month or so. He didn't wish to see them yet unless he had fully established himself as a man to contribute to his family's welfare. He was the only son and child, damn it. It was no desire of his to hear his father's disapproval of everything he was and will be.

Taking up the two suitcases he had with him, he was about to call a cabbie when a young boy no older than ten stood before him, handing out a sealed letter. He took it and was about to leave when the boy held on to his overcoat.

"No sir. You have a carriage waiting. The mistress would have you to read the letter on your way," the boy stumbled on his words.

Watari looked at the crest on the letter's seal. It was familiar to him and he would trust anything with this crest.

He sighed though. "All right. Where is the carriage?"

* * *

The letter had the scent of jasmine and vanilla on it, and the characters were written in a light blue ink. It was written in kanji, perfected yet obviously by a foreigner. The letter explained very little and there was no indication of even the name of his hostess. It only mentioned an invitation to stay at her home for as long as he'd like.

The carriage didn't take long to bring him to his destination. The footman let him down and took his suitcases. They had entered a large compound in the country-side. The house was a large traditional dojo mansion, favored by the samurai-class. He was guessing the compound was larger than he was seeing as of now.

An old man came down the steps, wearing a servant's uniform tuxedo of Europe. He bowed to Watari.

"The mistress will meet with you in the gardens. She is very relieved that you have arrived safely," he told him.

"Relieved? Why? Was there supposed to be danger?" he asked, a bit surprised with the man's choice of words.

"No, but as the times have changed, that is how she feels nonetheless. Now if you take the stone path to your right, you will find yourself in the sakura garden."

The man bowed and left as Watari followed the path. It cut through the tempered grass and led its way to a zigzagged bridge across a stream no more than three meters in width. The sakura garden was across the bridge. He cautiously crossed the bridge and found himself amidst the pink blossoms of the many sakura trees. To have a garden filled with only sakura was entrancing to him.

Small and soft steps on the bridge he stood on told him of his host's advent. He turned and stopped. As many would put it, time stood still, balancing itself on a precious moments and all other events surrounding that moment. Donned in a light green kimono with pink floral designs, the young ril in front of him could be easily named a Japanese girl with her lithe body and timid movements. But she wasn't. Her hair was dark red and her eyes were of a deep blue that almost bordered on black.

She was the girl in the painting.

"Dante Algiero," he said her name as if it were so sacred that none else should ever hear or utter it.

"Ah! You recognized the crest of the letter I sent you?" she said, obviously hearing only her last name and struggling to speak in Japanese.

"Yes...and no...I know you..or...uhm...I recognized you. You're Magnus' daughter," he said, stumbling just like the little boy did.

"Does he still put that ugly portrait by the foyer?!" she exclaimed, this time in Italian. "I told him to take it off..."

"It's not ugly! It actually quite beautiful...You were..." he was about to say something he might later regret but was saved from doing so when she interrupted him.

"Beautiful? I hate being praised for such!"

Then, there was the awkward silence that ensued between them. Out of words for a pleasant conversation.

"Many praise you for more than your beauty, Miss Algiero..." he said something finally.

"It doesn't matter, I don't care," she shrugged. "Mr. Yutaka, my father has arranged for you to stay in my household for as long as you would permit us to keep you."

"Oh...of course," his disappointment audible.

"Once one has been accustomed by the Algiero, one will always be advocated by the Algiero. You will want for nothing. It is a life-long covenant."

Watari heard her but didn't listen. He'd heard those words before but from her father. They sounded reassuring then, but now she made them sound bitter. She told him that she was entitled to patronize him until time no longer mattered.

"I never realized it worked that way. I've always stayed at other houses when I wasn't in Italy with your father."

"Distant relatives. Friends or nobles who owed our family a favor," she told him. "It's all a brilliant circle of connections and who you know."

He nodded.

"You may rest now, if you wish. But please do see me for a discussion of your plans," she bowed to him in the traditional way and turned to leave.

"Wait," Watari held her soft hands. "May I?"

Gently, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her delicate fingers. She watched him with calculating eyes.

Knowing full well he could never help it and would never regret it, he took a step towards her and kissed her lips. They were soft lips that deserved gentle kisses. His was gentle but he could tell she had only received rough and roguish ones.

He parted. Her eyes still held no expression.

"Good day," she walked back to the other side of the bridge they stood on.

Watari wasn't aware of it earlier but when she left, her scent of vanilla and jasmine stayed and wafted steadily in the air. Somehow he realized why many of the people he met called her a winter's mystery. And why everyone he's met had somehow in someway been madly in love with her.

* * *

End of Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The night was silent in the city. It was the hour when all drinks have been drunk to the last drop and everyone's home, drunk in their beds.

A black cat with a white underbelly prowls across the rooftops, like the moon's silhouette, in search for prey to eat. Preferably a mouse. Down below, stealth and quick movements of the shadows caught the cat's senses. Someone was running in the alleys and the hungry cat decided to give chase, no matter the former would be far larger than her. She had smelt blood.

A few blocks away, screams were heard.

* * *

Watari awoke with fear and to rain. The sky above was dark and gloomy yet he has never felt so refreshed in the morning. Rain in Japan was quite different from the lonely rain in Europe. It was almost as if he could hear the plants in the garden outside his room sing in delight of the rain. Thunder cracked through the sky, just as he was putting on his robe. He slowly slid the door open to the garden outside to look.

Dante suddenly passed through his line of sight, in the garden, walking fast across. She was soaked, he noted, and has seemed to be carrying something in her arms.

Without much thought to the only clothes he wore, Watari jumped from his porch and tried to follow where Dante had gone. She was quick and he couldn't find her in sight but he walked on steadily in the direction he saw her headed.

He went across the bridge and into the sakura garden. Still he went forward until he had reached a door into the house. To him, it was curious architecture to how the door got there. The design must be very complicated or he was very stupid. He pushed the two options that weighed in his head away.

He slid the door sideways and found a trail of wet footsteps on the wooden floor of the hallway. They disappeared into another door.

Obviously to him, the door led to a room and if it were Dante's bedroom, he couldn't bring himself to just open the door. In fact, he wouldn't even have a proper explanation for himself.

Instead, he knocked. Which wouldn't make a difference to his worries, actually.

After a few seconds.

"Who is it?"

"It's me?"

The door slid open and Dante, all wet and seemingly tired, faced him. The room behind her was dark and he could see nothing.

"You're wet," he pointed out.

"I'm well aware."

Then he saw something else other than water dripping from her hands.

"What happened? You're bleeding!"

"It's not mine…it's the cat's."

She pointed into her room where on a table was a cat, wounded. He rushed in and saw it still bleeding yet breathing.

"Shouldn't we take it to a doctor?"

"I am a doctor," she slowly pushed him aside as she went on to clean the cat's wounds.

Watari stepped aside and stared as she went on to try and save the cat's life. He couldn't tell how the cat got injured but its bleeding seemed very heavy.

"Could you get me my surgical box? It's under my bed…" she said.

Watari proceeded to do as he was told, seeing no other options if he wanted to stay around. The dimness of the room grew on him and he saw it to be styled in every Japanese way, except for the bed. She didn't sleep on a cot on the floor yet had a four-poster bed with Arabian curtains. He crawled down and found the only box underneath.

He gave it to her and she went on to stitch the cat's white underbelly.

* * *

A/N: This is just a show of who Dante is before I can proceed any further. I'm still developing the conflicts. Thanks. 

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Ok. So, I noticed how awkwardly I've been writing my plots. I'm taking too much time, and also because I shifted Watari's mortal timeline. In manga and anime reality, he was born on 1953. But for the sake of my fanfiction, I turned him into a 19th century man. Bear with it…at least.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

The cat didn't belong to Dante but it curled upon her lap, sleeping peacefully after the stitching. She should apologize to the cat but its behavior showed she didn't need its forgiveness. If only _'someone'_ out there was as much understanding. Someone or something, it didn't matter. It happened and now she just needs a little love in her life, for herself mostly, self-pity.

It had stopped raining by mid-morning and Watari had gone into town for a 'God knows what' errand. She had heard many things about the young man from her father…Apparently, the latter raved about him, and how genius and naïve at the same time Mr. Yutaka was. She didn't understand how the two notions could be applied together, but accepted it nonetheless.

Hardly were days when she thought about home, in Italy. But she couldn't go back. Something waited for her and would wait for as long as forever. She couldn't care less. Let it wait.

She looked up to the sun and shaded her eyes from the glare.

"How good you are to me, my friend…"

* * *

Watari walked happily around town, wearing the European style of clothing, instead of a kimono that he ought to. He had been quite accustomed to the three-piece suits and overcoat that he was more comfortable in them. No one really noticed the mismatched culture because of his long blond hair. 

He'd lied to Dante, which made him feel guilty enough to be unable to tell which direction he going. Whatever errand he'd told her about was far from any truth.

Passing through a shop, he saw and heard a customer and the shopkeeper talking in low whispers amongst themselves. They took no notice of Watari as he stood in the middle of the road, intent on listening.

"Not another grave-digging?" the customer said.

"Yes. Last night. How stranger that nothing's been taken. Just diggings…maybe it's a dog…?"

"A dog with a taste for corpses?"

Watari didn't stop to listen for more. Something's have been happening but it didn't surprise him though. Grave-digging was common practice for thieves, yet nothing's been taken. How does that fit? Was nothing worth taking? Possibly. But he dared not to dwell too much on it. Besides, he should be heading back now. It was almost lunchtime.

* * *

When Watari came back, Dante herself went to greet him at the gate. There was no need for her to be hostile to him anymore. He presented to her an aura as calming yet cheery, even if he does come off as a bit of a pervert. She wondered what experiments he conducted back in Europe. 

"Had a good walk?" she asked him as she looked at him on a level. "How was the errand?"

"Fruitless."

"Oh." There was no expression on her face. Watari saw that yet it was her voice that expressed her and the simple movements of her body. It intrigued him, the things about her.

It didn't seem proper, but if he could put her under a microscope and discover everything about her, he would. And that smell. Jasmine and vanilla, how it drove him crazy. Then a thought came to him. Would she ever forgive him for that kiss? But then, she might not have cared for it. Is that how women are? Some nay thoughts, ideas, questions and images came to his head that he didn't realize the prolonged silence and his ignorance of her.

"I'm sorry…I space out…I didn't realize…" he began.

She held out a hand.

"No need. Please…lunch has been waiting."

Watari saw that she wore a ring around her finger.

* * *

The ring had the Algiero crest upon it. 

"It's a legacy, for all children who've come of age to wear the crest ring," she told him when he pointed it out.

"But enough of this. You've probably heard much more of us from my father," she dismissed his further questions.

"You have a family. Where are they?"

Watari stopped. It was awkward for him and she saw this.

"All right then. Everyone is intrigued with you and your works, what are they?"

Relieved, Watari proceeded to tell her of his inventions, though fro him, they were mostly for entertainment purposes rather than something that could change the world.

"I'm not someone who goes around changing the world. I know that I'm not destined for that greatness and I don't pretend I will be," he said offhandedly. "I'm not going to save humanity from itself. That's a personal decision I don't intend to make for them."

Then, she did something that startled him. She smiled.

"A humbly selfish man. That's what I'd call you. It's refreshing to be unattached to the world…" she told him.

"I guess you put it more perfectly than I could ever," he shrugged, being happy in this moment with her compliment.

"But everyone has this one ultimate goal, right?" she said, her eyes wandering to a sakura-bonsai on the table.

Her thoughts and words mingled and collided and he could see this confusion as her face went blank and seemed to shut out everything else. She was delving deeper surfaces.

He could only nod.

"It's the obsession you know you can never accomplish or be satisfied with," her voice in a low monotone. Then her eyes flashed when they shifted from the bonsai to Watari. "What's yours?"

It seemed that Dante didn't give him time to breath.

"You," he gave his honest answer. "Generally anything related to females but you're my muse. The epitome of all my research. You made me start it."

Her mouth was open. Thoughts raced yet no words came out.

_Isn't she so cute with her shocked expression and her lips parted in such an alluring way?_

Then, she closed her mouth and bit her lips. She stared at him directly in the eyes, smiling in an odd way he didn't understand.

"I think you'd like to sneak in another kiss now, wouldn't you? Blaming me for your obsession," she teased.

"If you'd let me, I would. But I wouldn't dare now. We're having this intense talk. Me kissing you would be out of the line. And I'm not blaming you. It's true. You caused this."

"Oh?" she laughed.

"I was honest," he pointed out. "Now what's yours?"

Now it was Dante's turn to hold her breath.

"Being free."

* * *

**_End of Chapter Three_**


End file.
